


Tied In

by Voyaelm



Series: Oumami AU [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, HBD OUMA, Kissing, M/M, Shibari, i still can’t tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 23:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voyaelm/pseuds/Voyaelm
Summary: “Very pretty, Amami,” Ouma reaches down to drag lithe fingers against the binds. They feel rough to the touch but soft on his body. The red contrast is just that, very pretty.—aka Ouma gets tied up and fucked—HPA/Non-Despair AU





	Tied In

**Author's Note:**

> Omg I actually managed to finish this up in time for Ouma’s birthday??? Even though this isn’t necessarily birthday related??  
> —  
> Also saying that, this isn’t proofread, so I apologize for any spelling/grammatical/content errors!  
> —  
> FYI this is in the same universe as my other fic, ‘Haphazardous Façade’!

Amami wasn’t a dull person; if his clothes, hair, and attitude didn’t already make that obvious. He was always pulling something new out of his metaphorical hat. That, of course, was no different when it came to his and Ouma’s sex life.

Ouma was totally down for anything that Amami wanted to try out. The same went for Amami with Ouma — and it was usually Ouma wanting to try something.

So when Amami reached under his bed to unearth a bundle of bright red rope, Ouma’s eyes lit up.

Honestly not expecting to have sex today, Ouma quickly slugs his jacket off his shoulders and slips his shirt over his head, leaving himself bare chested. The cold air of the room makes Ouma shiver.

“So, Amami’s gonna tie me up?” Ouma questions and leans down, hands pressed tight to the sheets between his knees. I

“Something like that.” Amami says noncommittally. “Why don’t you sit nicely so we can start.”

Ouma obeys, moving over to sit up on the edge of the bed while Amami busies himself with the rope. He wasn’t expecting Amami to start so soon. He was expecting some kissing, hickies, any type of foreplay, but he’s not mad. That’ll all happen after he’s tied in.

Amami doubles the rope up and slips it around Ouma’s waist. “So what’s this called again?”

“Shibari. It’s a particular style of rope bondage,” Amami answers, tying the ends into a slip knot. He does another wrap. “And the style I’ve had the most experience with.”

Ouma is about to ask about how he has experience with _other_ types of rope bondage when Amami pulls the ropes tight. _That’s a new feeling_ , Ouma thinks. _Not bad, just new_. It feels like he’s getting the wind taken out of him.

Amami slides down to knees for a better angle on the ropes. He’s already so much taller than Ouma; him standing didn’t help.

Instead of focusing on the ropes and how Amami gracefully places them against his body, Ouma stares at Amami’s mop of green hair. He wonders if being out of body is a symptom of the ropes.

Amami casts his eyes up, down, and back up when he notices Ouma’a eyes. “Enjoying yourself there?”

“Oh, yep!” Ouma shifts. The ropes have turned into something completely different since he last looked down. There is a little ‘cage-like’ thing that stops underneath his pectorals. It’s kinda like that stupid thing Iruma wears over her shirt.

There are also two cords that run over his chest to cross in an ‘X’ pattern. The harness, he remembers Shinguji calling it that at some point, looks complete. But Ouma doesn’t really know what makes it complete. Is it when all the rope’s gone?

Amami coaxes Ouma’s head to his shoulder, handing going to work on his back. The ropes tighten against his chest and he gasps. A short laugh cuts through Amami’s chest after Ouma’s exclamation. The compression must be normal then.

“And that’s it!” Amami pushes Ouma’s head away so he can appreciate his art.

“Really? I expected it to look nicer.” Ouma frowns, poking at the thick tie under his ribs where the ‘X’ is anchored. Honestly, it looks intricate. Amami takes pride in this.

“Yeah, I’m not an expert. Kiyo only really taught me these.” Amami runs his hands over the base cage and the large back knot.

“Did he teach you by explaining or by doing?”

“Little bit of both.” Amami smiles brightly as he tightens the ropes pressed against Ouma’s chest. “They won’t be as nice as his, but they’ll last.”

“Wait, he’s actually tied you up?” Now that Ouma says it, it seems obvious. With the quiet whispers and laughs they share while talking to each other, he’s surprised he had to ask.

Amami says nothing, deciding instead to lift his shirt and show off the faint, stripped bruises adorning his chest. They’re healed for the most part. Sickly green-yellow with a hint of blue; they look great on him.

“Pretty, huh?”

“Very pretty, Amami,” Ouma reaches down to drag lithe fingers against the binds. They feel rough to the touch but soft on his body. The red contrast is just that, very pretty. Distantly, Ouma wonders if these exactly ropes were used to tie Amami down. His cock twitches with the thought. “I’ll have those when I’m done?”

“Nah, probably not. I’m not hoisting you up, so there won’t be a lot of pressure on you.” Ouma pouts at Amami’s explanation, yet he's still intrigued by the _hoisting you up_ part even though it isn’t going to happen to him. Sad, he was looking forward to messing with the long purple lines later. “ But they _would_ look gorgeous on you.”

“Everything looks gorgeous on me, Amami.”

“Can’t deny that,” Amami laughs and tucks the long trailing rope into a knot on the back. Safety probably. He doesn’t want all of his hard work to come undone. “We’ll just do the chest binding today. You need to get used to the feeling before I go further.”

“Oh?” Ouma questions, but Amami doesn’t follow-up. He instead leans down over Ouma’s prone form to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna get more?”

“Mmmhmmm, later though.” Amami connects their lips again after Ouma’s interruption. That was always fun; Ouma loved being shut up with kisses. It was part of the reason why he talked so much.

Amami drags his tongue _hard_ against Ouma’s teeth. The small metal ball clicks against the enamel and Ouma moans. He sometimes forgets that Amami has his tongue pierced — mainly when it’s not being used on him. When Amami pulls back, tongue poking out from his pretty lips, Ouma sees the silver sure as day.

“If this is all I get now, I’m excited to see what more gives me!”

Amami chuckles. He drags a firm hand up Ouma’s thigh and pushes him into the mattress. “I’m sure you are. I was excited too.”

 _Was? Really, Amami? You have a pretty guy under you. You’re not excited right now?_ Ouma throws his arms around Amami’s shoulders with an indignant huff.

“Ooooo! Speaking of… I wonder what you look like under Shinguji.” Ouma falls silent after his exclamation to daydream. He pictures Amami with his solid expression while Shinguji handles him. He can hear that placid laugh of his as Shinguji tucks his body in with red ropes. The hushed moans that spill when Shinguji drags his hands over Amami’s body, and the ones that are quieted by those same hands. “That sounds gross. I’d hate to see you all perverted.”

“Sure you would.” Amami rolls his eyes. Ouma expected him to see through that lie. “You’d just _despise_ that.” Ouma tightens his fingers on Amami’s nape, scratching through his undercut.

“Would I lie to my dear Amami?”

“Nah. You wouldn’t.” Amami’s smiles makes Ouma cringe. He doesn’t like it when Amami lies.

Even so, Ouma would actually like to see that. But he wants to be the one atop Amami, the one seeing him get wrecked. Ouma refused to settle for less than that.

Amami nudges Ouma’s hips so he can slip his pants and boxers down his legs and toss them on the floor. Amami’s own follow suit, but his shirt doesn’t. Ouma isn’t gonna judge if Amami wants to keep his shirt on; it’s just weird considering he’s naked otherwise.

He slides between Ouma’s legs and kisses him, handing rest gently on his waist. Ouma pulls himself up to lick at Amami’s ear. The feeling of Ouma’s tongue against all the piercings makes Amami shiver.

God that was so satisfying, making Amami lose him composure. As he said before, he wants to _ruin_ Amami one of these days.

In a split second, Ouma moves down to suck on Amami’s neck. He smirks against the skin when Amami tilts his head back and moans. Well manicured nails squeeze into Ouma’s bare sides.

“Mmhhh, baby.” Amami chuckles, adjusting himself. Ouma bites down to keep him in place. “ _Ah_!”

Ouma hums happily when Amami stops moving to let him give him a hickey. Amami’s skin under his teeth excites him.

“Okay, Ouma. That’s… enough.” Amami bring a hand up to push Ouma away after a while. He falls away onto the pillows with a proud smile plastered on his lips. Amami rolls his eyes. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

“Yes please!” Ouma replies, enthusiastic as ever. He tries to prop himself up, to get a better look at Amami all breathless, but he gets shoved back down.

“On your stomach so I can prep you,” Amami commands, moving to give Ouma space.

As Ouma begins to flip over, he catches Amami pulling his rings and bracelets off of his hands.

“You aren’t gonna finger me with your rings on?” Ouma jokes.

“Don’t wanna lose ‘em, do I?” The rebuttal shocks Ouma. He forgets that Amami can be ruthless as well — he’s usually so _polite_ and _caring_.

Surprise aside, Ouma wiggles his way to his belly and tucks his knees under himself. Maybe he can get Amami to do what he wants; all he needs to do is obey.

Amami’s fingers press against his hole, two slipping through the ring of muscle. _Oh, he’s not gonna warm me up first_. Ouma didn’t mind; he enjoyed Amami’s rough side. It was one of the only perks for being a brat.

The lubricant eases the entry, but it’s still two fingers. Ouma grits his teeth through the burn, closing his eyes and pushing his head into the pillow.

It doesn’t take long for a jolt to shoot through Ouma’s body when Amami finds his prostate. Amami teases the nerves for a bit, rubbing his fingers down until Ouma’s thighs quiver.

Then he pulls his fingers out, much to Ouma’s displeasure, so he can relube them. This time, he pushing in three off the bat.

The amount of lube Amami’s using is _ungodly_. His digits make wet noises every time they stretch him or thrust.

“Geez! Trying to slick up a slip-n-slide back there? You don’t need _that_ much lube,” Ouma complains, wriggling around on Amami’s fingers. He won’t deny that it feels good — amazing even. Amami’s just so dexterous.

“Just bein’ careful.” Amami takes Ouma’s breath away with another slow pull of his fingers against the soft walls. The moan that sneaks out of his mouth isn’t pretty.

“Well, stop it! I’m not some helpless virgin; I’ve been around the block a few times.”

“Only a few times?” Amami asks, eyebrow disappearing into his bangs. Ouma’s mouth opens indignantly, ready to tell Amami off. “I’m teasing, baby.”

Amami pulls his fingers out of Ouma with a wet pop. Ouma, nearly spent, collapses face first onto the bed.

“You sure are acting like a bitch today,” Ouma complains. He’s acting different than usual; not by much, but Ouma’s good at seeing through things. “Maybe Amami finally took my advice?”

The advice being for Amami to treat him more rough. Whether that was physically or mentally, Ouma didn’t care. He was so used to Amami being a calming addition to the bedroom that he wanted to see him flipped.

Maybe that’s why he’s so enthralled in his and Shinguji’s ‘relationship’. It was new; different. It makes his head spin more than the hands grabbing and flipping him onto his back.

He’d love to see Shinguji take Amami apart.

“And if I did?”

“Hahaha.” Ouma giggles. A pang of… some emotion shoots through his heart. He can’t tell if it’s excitement or dread. Ouma knows better than anyone that Amami can be _very_ scary when he wants to be.

Amami leans over Ouma to snatch something off the nightstand. It’s takes a little too long to realize it’s a condom.

Aw. He won’t get to get all filthy. Ouma pouts while Amami slips the condom over himself.

In reality, he doesn't mind. Cum is annoying to clean up. And this means he doesn't need a shower afterwards.

“Ready?” Amami asks after slathering his, now covered, cock with lube.

Ouma nods, choosing to keep the snarky remark bubbling in his throat where it is. Amami might have stop if he didn’t.

The latex doesn’t feel _that_ much different than when Amami does him raw. If anything, it eases the entry — but that might be the excessive amount of lube Amami used.

With a few soft thrusts, Ouma feels Amami fully sheathe himself inside.

“ _Move_ ,” Ouma demands, pushing his hips up into Amami’s.

“Patience, Ouma.” Amami smiles. He runs tan, warm hands up Ouma’s hips and takes hold. Ouma tosses his legs up around Amami’s waist, letting the natural movement of their bodies push them lower.

In everything, Ouma was clingy. It’s a different type of clingy though. He doesn’t need to be around Amami every second or else he worries if he still loves him. But, when he’s with Amami, he doesn’t want to let go. It partly to be annoying, partly to just be near him.  Ouma’s other significant others wouldn’t let him do _half_ of the shit Amami lets him get away with.

Ugh, he’s doing it _again_. Getting distracted while he has a super sexy guy currently moving inside him. Ouma forcefully shakes his head and returns to reality. When he does, he’s not sure Amami is fully there with him.

Amami’s thrusts lull randomly. And when they do, it’s because Amami’s playing with the solid red that spans Ouma’s pale chest. It’s cute, but it’s not doing much to get him off.

“I feel like you're enjoying this more than I am.” Oum punches out through the pleasure. Even though it’s not fast, it still feels nice.

“Well, that’s a little upsetting.” Amami punctuates himself with a deep thrust. “Considering this is a gift and all.”

“For who?” Ouma sasses, reaching up for the pillows. If the way Amami pounds into him is anything to go by, it’s definitely for him. The building pressure in his lower stomach makes his legs shake where they’re — now — affixed to Amami’s hips. “Mmmm, nevermind.”

Amami huffs, tossing his head back to move his bangs out of his eyes before leaning down to kiss Ouma. The position shift makes Amami slide in a little _too_ deep, and it makes Ouma jump.

“Ah!”

“Heh, that feel nice?” Amami teases, pulling nearly all the way out before slowly pushing all the way back in. He feels his butt hit Amami’s uppers thighs.

Ouma turns his head to the side so he can bite into the light grey pillows. He nods as much as he’s able when Amami picks his pace up again.

It gets to a point where Ouma’s sure that he’s gonna have bruises on his butt and hips from how quick and hard Amami’s moving. _At least I get some pretty marks, yay._

Both of their moans get louder and louder, and Ouma’s approach ‘scream’ territory.

“Fuc-Fuck, _mmmmmhh_ , Amami!!”

Ouma swears that his eyes roll back into his head when he cums. It feels so fucking amazing; he’s not sure if that’s due to Amami’s enthusiasm or the ropes.

Shortly after, Amami cums with a deep moan and a bite to Ouma’s shoulder, just to the right of one of the ropes. Ouma coos, pulling a hand through Amami’s soft hair.

A whine slips out of Ouma’s chest when Amami pulls out. It wasn’t like Amami was the biggest he’s ever had — but saying he _wasn’t_ well-endowed would be a lie. He still causes that empty feeling that plummets into his stomach. He wants Amami to stay inside him.

Amami, with shaky hands, pulls the condom off, ties it off, and throws it into the trash bin under the nightstand. Afterwards, Amami collapses against Ouma’s chest with a loud exhale.

Amami’s shirt feels extremely warm on Ouma’s bare chest. _How does he leave any of his clothes on?_ Not that clothed sex wasn’t hot — in multiple ways.

“Wow,” That’s all Ouma can say right now. He could probably wax poetic about nearly everything that just happened even though his brain is fried. It’s a feeling he only gets after sex, but it’s stronger today.

He knows exactly why it’s more noticeable. It’s the rope, the restriction. It makes him feel vulnerable in a way that isn’t scary.

The two cuddle for a few minutes, Ouma wrapping his thin arms around Amami’s back when he pushes his face into Ouma’s shoulder. _It’s nice. Amami doesn’t lay on my chest that often_. He knew Ouma had issues with control, so maybe he was trying to give some back.

But, they sadly only last until Amami shifts out of Ouma’s grip. Ouma whines. Now that the heat has dissipated, he’s cold again. Ouma grabs Amami’s arm before he completely removes himself.

Amami reaches out towards the nightstand with arm that Ouma isn’t clinging to.

“What are you doing over there, Amami?” Ouma asks, still panting in over exertion even though he didn’t do much work. It’s still exhausting to be pounded into. _Oh, it’s difficult being a pillow prince._

Amami hums, rummaging around on the table before coming away with his phone. He shakes his arm free from Ouma, leaning back on his calves with his phone held landscape in his hands.

Ouma hears the camera snap and squints. “You took a picture of me?”

“Yeah. Hope that was okay.”

“Hmmm. Nope. It wasn’t.” Ouma smiles, twisting his body on the bed. “I want you to delete it.”

“Aw. Too bad.” Amami smiles back, fingers lightly tapping his screen. “I just wanted to show Kiyo my rope work.”

“That’s all?”

“Well. I think I also want to show him how much of a rope bunny you are.”

“Take that back!” Ouma tries to sit up only to have Amami pin him down with a hand on his chest. It feels… exciting, having pressure over the ropes. Any objections quickly die in his throat.

Based on Amami’s face, this doesn’t go unnoticed. “Aw. It’s okay, baby.” Amami presses harder, and it takes more of Ouma’s breath away. “I like ropes too.”

“But I don’t like th-ah ah!” Ouma moans. Amami tosses his phone on the bed and puts both hands in the middle of Ouma’s chest. “It’s the pressure.”

Amami curls his fingers into the ropes with a smile and a laugh. “ _Sure_ it is.” He tugs up on the harness, pulling Ouma up. To keep himself from falling back, Ouma darts his arms around Amami’s shoulders.

He pulls Amami into another deep kiss, happy to shut him up. He’d… look over that picture later.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh their dynamic is so fun to write!! I hope you enjoyed it!! Remember I always take fic requests; so if you have any, send em my way!!  
> —  
> Oh and I have a Oumami Spotify playlist I made a couple days ago! It’s not that big, but it’d mean a lot if you gave it a looksie! 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/h8q1c68pb95i1vb0z37r1nbhi/playlist/2a1T2dyZk5qL1RvHGV8zyS?si=SYErIEBuS7WFwxmzu_FJXg


End file.
